22.1.14

Insomaniac, or I Really Actually Am My Own Favorite Person To Hang Out With Sometimes

And now, unrelated things!

In all seriousness, as much as I'd like to leave the evening off at what I think it's a pretty honest and pleasant thought, the simple truth is today's events have prevented me from getting my nightly bud. Not that this is a big complaint, as I'd say the trade off was a pretty good one, but still, weed is what lets me sleep without any overly fucked up dreams to keep waking me up.

I have a pretty bizarre form of insomnia. I get horrifically realistic and vivid dreams, which is great when you're just having a dream about a nice day at work or whatever, but really lame when you're having some kind of heart stopping lovecraftian shit going on in your head. For ever pleasant dream, there is a novel's worth of shitty ones.

So, rather than go to bed and spend the rest of the night scaring the everliving jeebus out of everyone and everything else in the house, I end up smoking a pile of weed and then immerse myself in something requiring output for a few hours, in order to make myself tired. I then fall asleep pretty exhausted, and usually have a dreamless sleep, or at least not remember them.

Usually, this works like a bloody charm, and I get a TON of stuff done. Mostly, I will clean the house, but sometimes I do something fun, like build bookshelves or read the Bible (lots of effort with the King James version), or learn rubberband tricks, or write an incredibly indepth dungeons and dragons tabletop RPG type campaign that I don't really have any interest in actually playing but was a GREAT timekiller, or whatever else can suck up a lot of mental energy and is remotely interesting. Generally, a few hours of straight on immersion in a task, coupled with a bit of bud, will put me right out. It also gives me the claim to be a rare productive stoner.

But some nights, like tonight, I'm a little late on the punch. And other nights, like tonight I do fun but stupid things like play 4X videogames, or give myself something to think about. Then I end up with far too much to do to sleep - I just NEED to play videogames, or sit and stare and scribble shit down furiatively as thoughts blaze past. Because, you know, I forget what the empire's doing when I save and the whole Selukid dynasty will fall turns after I load it up the next day, or because the thoughts will be long gone when it's not 3 am and I'm piping them straight from an Incan monkey god and I won't be able to translate his beautiful but simple language in the morning (usually a fuckton of scribbles and some leery drawings).

So, tonight's a doozy, boys!

As an aside here, I feel like I think wayyy too much at once some times. Sometimes I wonder if this is maybe what A.D.D. is, or if maybe I'm just wired really oddly. Everytime I tell some one I think to much, I think they kind of misunderstand what I'm saying. The response I usually get is "well, you're just smarter" or something similar. I'm 24 in a little bit, and have met all kinds of people. I would certainly not say I'm really above average in intelligence, but I do think I've got a really, really quick mind. It's like computers. Let's say I have a computer that runs twice as fast as yours. That computer isn't really any smarter, it's just quite a bit quicker. And I find that usually, this drives me nuts. When I'm in a good mood, or feeling well, or a little drunk or stoned, then I can organize everything and I think it's actually kind of useful, because I can usually do two or three things at once without going nuts. When I'm really drunk, or kinda stoned, everything slows down to what feels like is probably normal, and I can do a much better job of conveying myself and getting the general point of what I'm trying to say across. This is generally a great place to be during social occasions, because I'm actually pretty fucking charming in a "fuck you" kind of way, or at least am drunk enough by this point to think so.

Anyway, on most of these nights where I am thinking and scribbling (or, playing really interesting videogames), weed somehow stops putting me to sleep, and starts waking me the fuck up.

And then I start to get bored, but not tired. I can't express how shitty I start to feel when I get really bored, and there is nothing to do but just sit and think HARD. I honestly think I'm depressed some days, but maybe a post for some other time.

So I smoke a bunch more, which wakes me up more, which causes me to smoke more.

Once this happens, my little lizard brain pops over into addict for addict's sake mode, and I get stuck in a horrendous loop. Oh, things still get done, let me tell you, just not always good things. It's one thing to joke about the 3 am Incan monkey god. It's another thing entirely to start to take it seriously, and start to build little shrines and appoint your cats high priests before sacrificing a pomegranate to feed your gods, then like six more because YOU ARE THE INCAN MONKEY GOD, AND YOU ARE HUNGRY!.

Or, being stuck so awake that you develop a sport based around the buttload of empty cans your roomates have around the house, some dull toy katana swords, and some really conveniently positioned windows.

Or, you know becoming so bored with insomnia that you draw up intricate plans for survival and gradual rulership of every century from the year 0 onwards, because you never know. I'll give you a hint - avoid Poland, don't be Jewish, and live about as far west as you can, and you're likely to avoid anything really terrible happen to you. Then starting to think about gathering supplies to inact these plans, because you never know when you'll somehow get accidentally sent back through time and a bunch of shit and trival knowledge from 1231 might be useful (hint: seriously, avoid Poland).

Or, worst of all, you get so wired, burnt and foolish that you record yourself playing an assortment of instruments made from shit around the house to the classics of the 80s and 90s.

Really, as much as the whole thing is almost always a little immature, it's actually pretty amazingly fun to go to work in the mornings knowing you spent the evening lording over some cats and looking up really old maps and playing beerskeetball and generally just kind of fucking around in a way that you just can't when people are around watching.

There are a couple pretty big downsides, though. For one, beerskeetball is a sport of only the finest of gentlemen and is quite exertive, often leaving one tired and exhausted. Planning the ultimate chronological survival guide is ALOT of fucking reading, checking, and occasionally even crosschecking if I'm alert enough. It WEARS A GUY OUT!

So, usually, I will pass out on my nice, big couch, which is quite frankly far nicer than anything I've owned bedwise in quite a long time. I will wake up an hour or two later fucking exhausted, late for work, and previously, with one or more of my roomates asking me why I'm shirtless, wallowing in my large mammal-hood, and covered in red juice. The second question is usually why the cats have leaves and shit taped to them, and why RCR is on instrumental repeat. Or, where the fuck did all these latters come from? Or, etc. etc. This is of course not exactly always fun depending on what exactly I was doing at the moment I shut down, and leaves me exhausted all day.

So, thusly, rather than just do the smart thing, knowing full well that much had be thought out before I could sleep and that I should smoke the bowl and write or something for a bit, I decided to smoke a bowl and TAKE A FUCKING BATH.

Now, something you should know about me and baths, just so it doesn't surprise anyone when it turns out I've drowned someday. I do not take baths in the sense that a mere common mortal "takes" baths. No, my baths are the baths of men, nay, of great bearded men, nay OF GREAT BEARDED MEN OF YORE.

My baths are not baths. They are fucking events, with a full band, chocolate fountains, and three course meals. My baths are so fucking awesome, that one time, I shit you not, my neighbour's propane tank exploded and blew up a good chunk of forest, rocking the ground as though I was under the feet of titans, and still, I did not move, such was the glory of that bath.

In all honesty, my baths usually only have a one course meal, unless I really feel like TAKING the bath around the house and making a mess. But they certainly are epicly long baths in which I tend to lose track of time reading or thinking or sitting in the dark pretending I'm in a sensory deprivation chamber. There are indeed musics, as I have a mo-fo'ing speaker system in here, and there was both a vodka fountain, back when I drank steady and loved stinking like vodka, and a variety of tasty chocolates, until I realized that it's just a fucking terrible idea the minute you spill it into the tub a little.

Anyway. So here I am. Like six fucking hours later. And you know what I'm doing? No, goof, I'm not sitting on the couch or in bed writing this!

I'M STILL IN THE GODDAMN BATH, WRITING TO YOU STRAIGHT FROM THE MOTHERFUCKING GODDAMN 3 AM INCAN MONKEY GOD!















So yeah, that plan fucking failed. At least my pot roast is nearly done!

1 comment:

  1. "I'm actually pretty fucking charming in a "fuck you" kind of way, or at least am drunk enough by this point to think so."

    Haha, yeah, that sounds pretty fair.

    And seriously. His whole house blew up, everywhere evacuated, and I, dear reader, bathed on.

    ReplyDelete

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